


The Lie

by GypsySisters



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Dreams and Nightmares, Elevators, F/F, F/M, Jealousy, Spooning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-14 20:05:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17515130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GypsySisters/pseuds/GypsySisters
Summary: Tilly wants Michael to lie to her, but Michael ends up lying to herself.





	The Lie

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little one-off... I started writing about Pike x Tilly... and then Michael kinda inserted herself into the fic... funny how those characters demand to be heard, sometimes! I hope you enjoy it. xoxo

“Oh! Thank god you’re here.” Sylvia Tilly stood in the doorway to her room, her nightgown wrinkled and her hair mussed, looking up into Michael Burnham’s deep brown eyes with a mixture of relief and fear. Michael was dressed in her uniform, perfectly prim and proper, just like she always appeared. “I didn’t wake you, did I? Oh… crap… I probably did wake you up and you’ve been so taxed lately, what with the new adjustments to ship life, and Captain Pike’s command, I…”

As she rambled on, Tilly’s arms started to shiver and her teeth clattered uncontrollably with her nerves.

Michael stepped into the doorway, one hand on each side of her friend, and squeezed her arms, steadying her as she examined her.

“Tilly. It’s alright. I am here. Your worry is illogical.”

Tilly’s shoulders slumped and she dissolved into a mess of tears. “I know. I know it’s illogical. Can’t you see that’s why I called for you? None of this makes sense, no matter how hard I try to make sense of it, but you’re so much more sensible than I ever was. Please, I need you to help me makes sense of this.”

Michael ushered Tilly into her room and wrapped her arm around her shoulders as she sat her former roommate down on the bed. Of course, Michael and Tilly were no longer roommates, not since the war was over, not since Discovery had returned from the Terran universe amidst accolades. Tilly was promoted to Ensign. Michael was making a place for herself, a proper place for herself, on the ship. It made only logical sense for the two friends to abide by Starfleet regulations and accept the new room assignments that came with their ranks.

But sometimes, late at night, Tilly would awake in a cold sweat and clench her hypoallergenic sheets, trying desperately to catch her breath as her heart hammered wildly in her chest. She would see Hugh’s face, screaming in a cloud of wild mycelial lighting; or she would hear Lorca’s voice pleading with her, begging her to reach out and find him in the darkness. The dreams were so poignant, so visceral, so real that it would take her time to adjust to her waking reality and trust that she was in the right time, the right place, the right state of consciousness, the right plane of existence.

“You had the dreams again.” Michael stated it as a fact, not a question. She knew what Tilly needed the moment the message lit up her PADD with the overly timid question: _Are you awake?_ She knew Tilly didn’t want to inconvenience her or overburden her, even though the weight that she was bearing seemed to be tearing her apart.

“They _are_ just dreams. Right? They are just the brain’s way of processing a multitude of subconscious connections and mental garbage from the day. They are just projections of mental processes, and they are not real… not even when they feel so real… not even when they feel… when they hurt… oh God, Michael, why do they hurt so much?”

Tilly flopped her worried head down on her pillow and Michael sat beside her, running her fingers through her unruly hair, scratching her scalp and smoothing down her strands as Tilly closed her eyes and cried.

“Tell me they aren’t real. Please, Michael. Even if you have to lie to me… tell me they’re just dreams.”

Michael would protect her. She would protect her friend from anything. As Tilly started shaking again, Michael slipped into bed beside her, wrapping her body around hers, rubbing her arms, helping her feel safe, helping her find rest.

Tilly had seen the ship psychologist, of course, but he didn’t have any answers, either. What could he offer, when the vast space of the human imagination was introduced to the new frontier of the mycelial network and the Discovery’s explorations with the space/time continuum.

“They are just dreams,” Michael reassured her, even though she wasn’t sure of the answer herself. She nuzzled her face into the back of Tilly’s head, resting her chin on Tilly’s shoulder as she held her friend, anchoring her to this reality, tethering herself to her.

Maybe Sylvia Tilly was connected somehow to Hugh or Lorca or some version of them. Maybe the wild and persistent dreams she was having were just as real as the humidifier pumping eucalyptus oil into the air to help her sleep or the soft and allergen free mattress that sighed with the women’s weight as they shifted, Michael slipping her arm under Tilly and pulling her back up into a spooning position, kicking off her boots as she slipped her legs around Tilly’s.

It’s not like Michael needed comfort, however. No no no. Michael was fine. She was absolutely fine. It barely even phased her that Ash had turned out to be a Klingon in disguise, or that Lorca had been grooming the Terran version of herself for domination both in and out of the bedroom. As she held Tilly in her arms, tufts of ginger hair tickling her cheeks, she did not meditate on the way either man had looked at her, had touched her, had wanted everything from her. No. She did not think about them. They were not worthy of her time, of her attention. She blocked them from her mind and set about embracing the reality before her: comforting her friend as best she could, while looking forward into the unknown to brave the vast and mysterious universe.

And that is how they fell asleep.

The next day, Tilly and Burnham were in the transporter, when the doors paused to open and Captain Pike stood before them, smirking at his good luck.

“Canteen, please,” he said to the computer as he stepped inside and looked Tilly over, smirking again.

“Oh my gosh… I’m headed to the canteen, too. Have you been to Discovery's canteen yet? I’m sure that the Enterprise has great eating quarters, but if you needed help, I could show you where the best tables are. Well… the “best” is actually really a subjective thing, but I guess it depends on whether you are bothered by drafts or large influx of new crowds, or if you like to sit closer to the stars. I prefer to watch the stars, myself.”

Tilly looked down, blushing, embarrassed at how much she had rambled until Captain Pike nudged her arm with his elbow, chuckling.

“I like the stars, too, Ensign.”

Burnham remembered, in vivid detail, how the new Captain had flirted with her friend on the bridge while Tilly rambled on and on. Everyone on Discovery knew that Tilly wore her heart on her sleeve, that she was sweet and vivacious and full of so much care and feeling. Captain Pike, however, would not be aware of how much Tilly was the heart and soul of the ship, or of how fragile she could be at times, what her history was with her mother, for instance, or the impact that losing ship mates so traumatically could have on her. He was just another man, another swaggering bastard of a man, and Burnham knew that men like him only wanted one thing from women like Tilly. Burnham clenched her fists as she glanced at them flirting and tried to reconcile this sudden hatred she felt flashing through her for her new superior, while also trying desperately to find a way to keep Pike from interfering with Tilly’s big and beautiful heart.

“Doesn’t Stamets need you in Engineering?” Michael heard her voice leave her body, and it was so tight and cold, it seemed foreign even to her.

Tilly giggled, “Oh, I don’t think he’s in a rush. He was barely able to summon the wherewithal to look at his equipment two days ago.”

“All the more reason to help him get set up, now that he has a newfound interest in his work,” Michael urged, feeling the muscles in her neck grow tight… she would say anything to get these two apart.

Tilly sighed, looking at Pike, reluctant to miss a chance to spend time with him.

“What do you say we ask the Lieutenant if he needs anything from the canteen, and kill two birds with one stone? You can show me the best tables, and I can help you bring him a breakfast to remember?”

“There’s no food in the labs,” Burnham blurted out before Tilly could reply. But Tilly was not even trying to respond. She didn’t even react to Burnham’s words. She was just looking at Pike with stars in her eyes, completely smitten with this bumbling idiot of an interim captain.

Pike chuckled, looking down at his obnoxiously perfect cuticles, and licked his lips as Tilly’s face grew flush and she looked away, biting her bottom lip.

The doors to the transporter opened, and Burnham cleared her throat.

“This is me. My room is down the hall.” She then turned to Tilly and gave her a look of concern. Was her friend going to be alright? Or should she skip the trip to her room and join these two in order to make sure Tilly was ok?

“Tilly smiled at her friend with a twinkle in her eyes.” Are we still on for drinks later?

Michael nodded, then watched grimly as the doors shut between her and Tilly, whisking her roommate away to suffer the impossible charms of Captain Christopher Pike. Michael’s entire body grew tense as she thought of him smiling and flirting, touching her, making Tilly blush and giggle. Didn’t Tilly know that she was just going to make a fool of herself, that the path to commanding one’s ship meant removing unnecessary distractions, and that any attentions Pike paid her would be just that in his mind: distractions?

Michael huffed off to her room, then sat on her bed, trying to quiet her noisy mind. Why did she care? She didn’t care. Tilly could flirt if she wanted to… and she obviously wanted to. What was it to her if Pike enjoyed the attentions of the best crewmember on this ship, and Michael’s best friend? Why did it even matter? It didn’t matter to her. It meant nothing to her whatsoever. Especially because Michael knew that, late at night, she would be the one Sylvia Tilly would always call, she would be the one to support her when her career aspirations materialized, and even when Pike inevitably broke her heart and left her, Michael would be there to pick up the pieces and hold Tilly together, as always.

“I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care.”

As Michael sat there with her head in her hands, frustrated at the feelings that were haunting her, the memory of Sylvia’s curly hair brushing softly against her lips came back to her. This time it did not bring her relief or put her to sleep. It just made her heart feel like a stone.


End file.
